


Once a Thief

by Cybra



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Past Abuse, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybra/pseuds/Cybra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once, the people of Storybrooke can go on the offensive before a bad guy's plans come to fruition.  After Archie manages to pickpocket the last piece they need with a skill no one would expect from the psychologist, Emma decides to do a little digging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once a Thief

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** My first time writing _OUAT_ fic, and it was _supposed_ to be short. I just love Archie to bits and have sort of shipped him with Emma ever since I started watching though it wasn't until recently that I realized it. Inspired by flameysaur of tumblr’s Swan Cricket fics where he struggles with his “bad blood”. That and I always wanted to see what Emma’s reaction would be to the skills Archie picked up from his parents. Post-Season 4A. For the record, the bad guy here is loosely based on the titular Wizard King from the story “The Wizard King”.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** _Once Upon a Time_ belongs to the Walt Disney Company via ABC.

“If we can just get close enough—” David began.

“Problem, Dad,” Emma cut in. “I try to get too cozy, and he’ll smell something’s up.  We’d need to lift it some other way.”

“I doubt he’s going to keep it in his jacket pocket for us to just wait around until he leaves that somewhere,” Mary Margaret said sensibly.

The round table had been more animated than usual.  For the first time, a possible major threat to Storybrooke hadn’t been clever enough in hiding himself until he could carry out his plan.  There was time to prepare and launch a counteroffensive, but they needed the notebook the man constantly scribbled in which would likely hold some clue as to what would be the best way to do it.

They’d been at this for a while now, trying to come up with some way to grab the item without tipping off their opponent.  Unfortunately, they were coming up empty.

“I can do it.”

The quiet voice stopped all conversations around the table.

Regina quirked a brow.  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Archie was staring at nothing but the tabletop in front of him, his hands in his lap.  “I’m not.  I can do it.  Besides…”  The psychiatrist lifted his head and gave a smile though it was oddly strained.  “…who’d expect Jiminy Cricket to pick someone’s pocket, right?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Mary Margaret asked, openly concerned for her friend.

The psychiatrist paused in surprise by her question before the smile was back in place.  “Will it save lives?”

“Undoubtedly,” Regina answered for the new mayor.

“Then I think I can stomach doing it long enough to get the job done.”

Emma gave a confident smile.  “I’ll give you some pointers on what to do.  Even practice with you.”

“I won’t need it.”  Archie got up from the table, suddenly looking old and haggard.  “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Now?”

“The sooner the better.”

Emma blinked, recognizing the unspoken message from her own experiences:

_Before I change my mind._

“All right,” the Savior told the cricket in human form. “Just in case things go south, Dad and I will be watching close by.”

Archie nodded before heading out the door.

David stood up to stand behind his daughter.  “…Well, that was odd.”

“Yeah, it was,” Emma noted. “Come on, we need to keep tabs on him so we can make sure everything goes okay.”

“You got it.”

* * *

 

Nobody was one hundred percent sure which story this man was from.  At least not yet.  Mr. Wally Lang had been evasive on the subject which had sent off alarm bells in Emma’s mind.  Most members of Storybrooke readily shared which story they were from in hopes of finding someone they’d lost but had never realized that they’d shared a town with for years.  It had been over a year since the original curse broke, but some people were still having trouble finding one another.

So after going to David with her concerns, they’d kept an eye on Lang and found out he’d been up to something.  The amount of supplies he bought for his home was way too much for one man and certainly nothing that would keep as emergency supplies.  Couple that with a disturbing amount of zip tie purchases and the way he’d openly ogle any member of the female sex, and there was a potential recipe for non-magical trouble at the very least.

Despite his insistence that they get this over with, Archie waited.  He’d taken his time over lunch a few tables away from Lang who was so busy scribbling away between glances up at Ruby.  As hungry as she felt, Emma had to quietly admire the former cricket’s patience.

“What is he doing?” David’s voice asked in her ear.

She clicked her radio.  “Waiting for the right moment.”  She paused, silently adding to herself,  _‘It’s almost like he’s done this before…’_

But that couldn’t be right.  This was  _Jiminy Cricket,_ the famous conscience.  How would Archie know how to keep his cool for something like this?

Lang got up from his table after paying his tab.  Archie remained.

“Come on, Arch,” David’s voice murmured. “I know you don’t wanna do this, but you need to seal the deal.”

The town shrink finished his meal, paid, and left Granny’s with a smile and goodbyes to Ruby and her grandmother.  He stepped out into the sunshine, for once sans umbrella and Pongo, taking a moment to adjust to the sunlight before looking at his watch.  He grimaced and hurriedly walked  _past_ Lang as though suddenly realizing he was late to an appointment.  He didn’t even do the classic “bump and swipe” maneuver.  He just kept walking.

Something shiny fell from Archie’s jacket.

“Dr. Hopper!” Lang called, walking forward to pick that something up off the ground. “Dr. Hopper!”

Archie turned around, looking as if he’d been jerked out of his thoughts.  He looked at the target in surprise before he answered Lang though Emma was too far away to hear the words.

Lang said something with a grin, holding up Archie’s key ring by the keychain and giving it a little shake.

Instinctively, Archie put his hand to the pocket he regularly kept his keys in.  He reached inside, feeling around until his fingers wiggled out through a hole that Emma was fairly sure hadn’t been there during the round table meeting.  The psychologist sighed and walked closer to Lang.

Lang closed the rest of the distance so they stood barely two feet apart.  He dropped the keys into Archie’s waiting palm before giving him a sympathetic look and said something that was clearly a question.

The psychologist nodded with an obvious sigh.

Lang stepped forward to give Archie a side hug, making the psychologist squirm.  (Emma had to snort.  The guy was trying way too hard to seem like a likeable and perfectly nice guy.  She couldn’t wait to stomp him before he got the chance to pull something.)

Archie awkwardly pulled away, nodding and saying something that was an obvious “thank you” before heading towards his office, keys in hand.

“He didn’t get the notebook?” David asked via her earpiece.

“Oh, he got it,” Emma said, quietly marveling.

It had been so quick during that side-hug that she’d almost missed it.  Really, the closer you got to someone and the longer you took when picking their pocket, the higher the risk of getting caught.  Lang was either a complete idiot (not impossible) or Archie was just that  _good._

Something told her it was the latter option.

“I’m gonna head to his office and get the notebook,” Emma told David. “I’ll see you back at the round table with the others.”

“You don’t think Archie’s going to join us?”

“Given who he is, I’ll bet he just wants to go home and take a long hot shower.”

“I guess that’s true.  I’ll see you there then.”

“See you.”

Emma clicked off her radio, waited until Lang was heading off before starting in the direction of Archie’s office.

* * *

The second he opened the door and realized it was her, Emma fumbled to catch the notebook he thrust in her direction.

“Please tell the others I won’t be rejoining the discussion.  I’m not feeling well,” the redhead said with downcast eyes.

“No problem.”  She pocketed the notebook in her jacket pocket.  “You okay?”

“Like I said, I’m not feeling well.”  He gave another of those strained smiles.  “I wouldn’t be much use at the meeting as I am now.”

“Okay,” she said with a nod.

On impulse, she reached out to touch his arm when he started retreating into his office.  He turned to look at her.

“I just want you to know that you did good,” she told him. “I mean, I’ve never seen anybody pull off a pickpocket job that smoothly.  I know what to look for, and even  _I_ almost missed it.”

She didn’t expect him to be pleased with the compliment but the way his face turned ashen worried her significantly.

“I got a lot of practice,” he mumbled, looking as though he wanted to vomit.

Emma gave him a confused look.  “When would you need to do something like that?”

And, more importantly, why would he have done it so many times that he’d get  _good_ at it?

There was a flash of betrayal in the blue eyes that lifted just enough to meet hers, and something twisted in her gut because she didn’t know what she’d done to deserve it.  Then came guilty realization, banishing the betrayal.  “Henry never told you, did he?”

“Told me what?”

“My story.”

“Everybody knows your story.  You became Pinocchio’s conscience to help him become a real boy,” Emma said with a shrug. “What’s the big deal?”

“Not that.   _Before.”_

“Before?”

Archie nodded.

“What happened before Pinocchio?” she asked.

For a moment, she thought he’d tell her before he slumped and looked away.

“Archie?” she prompted.

“I don’t want to talk about it.  Besides, you’ve got more important things to worry about than me.”  He nodded to the notebook.  “Just stop this guy before he does something terrible.”

Though still worried, Emma nodded her understanding.  “I can do that.  Thanks for your help, Archie.”

The smile he gave her was less forced but more sad.  With that, he gently closed the door to his office, leaving her outside.

* * *

Lang had never known what hit him.  He’d sputtered as he was handcuffed and forced into the back of the squad car that Emma only drove when she absolutely had to.  The sheriff wished they had an actual  _prison_ in Storybrooke instead of just a few jail cells.  She’d love to see that guy get what he deserved in the prison yard.

“She loves me!  She just needed time to accept that she needs to  _be_ with me!”

“Save it,” Emma snapped.  She looked to her father. “Too bad they don’t  _all_ go down this easy.”

“You won’t hear me arguing,” David said. “Just glad he’s off the street before he grabbed someone.”

“Yeah.”

David tilted his head to one side, and seeing one of her own gestures reflected back at her made her wonder if it was a genetic trait.  “You okay?  Something’s been bugging you since you brought back the notebook.  Worried about Archie?”

“A little,” she admitted. “He wasn’t himself, y’know?”

He gave her a smile.  “Don’t worry.  Archie will be fine once whatever he’s got is out of his system.”

She didn’t bother to tell him that she was pretty sure it wasn’t some illness or headache that brought the psychologist down.  Instead, they drove to the station and booked Lang.  After that chore plus the paperwork were complete, Lang trying to “seduce” her from his cell the whole time, she decided to pull David aside.

“Got a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know what happened to Archie before Pinocchio?”

The prince opened his mouth to answer before he closed it, frowning in thought.  “…Y’know, I don’t think I ever asked.  He definitely hasn’t mentioned it when I was around.”

“Would Mom know?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  Why?”

“Something weird in how he was able to pull off the job so smoothly,” she admitted. “I’ll ask Henry if that book of his has any ideas.”

“Sounds like a plan.  Let us know what you find out?”

Emma paused before answering, conflicted.  If Archie hadn’t even told the ruling couple of his past as Jiminy, should she be the one to share it?  It was moments like this that she wished she had a little bug on her shoulder to tell her what the right option was.

However, David made the decision for her, putting his hand on her shoulder.  “Y’know what?  You don’t have to tell us.  It’ll either come out eventually or he’ll tell us himself.  No need to force the issue.”

“Yeah.  He only let that much slip because he thought Henry told me.”  Emma smiled.  “Thanks.”

“No problem.”  He gave her shoulder a nudge. “I’ll keep an eye on this guy tonight.  Last thing we want is him getting ideas that you’re fascinated by him or something.”

“You sure?”

“Just do me a favor and make sure your mom doesn’t run herself ragged.”

“No promises on that.  You know how she gets.”

The pair gave affectionate eye rolls.  With a hug goodbye, they went their separate ways.

* * *

“Hey, kid.  Got a question for you and that book of yours.”

Henry looked up at his birth mother as she sat down on the bed next to him.  “Sure, what’s up?”

“What was Archie’s story before Pinocchio?” she asked.

“Why?”

“Something’s eating him and from what he said, it sounded like that was it.  He thought you’d told me.”

Henry fidgeted.  “After Archie got his memories back and you started believing, I wanted to tell you like all the others’ stories, but I thought he’d be mad so I didn’t.”

“That bad?” Emma asked.

“It’s the worst.”

The blond woman tapped her fingers on her thighs, intrigued.  What could be so bad about the story of a conscience personified as a cricket?  “On a scale of poisoned apple to Gold abandoning your dad for power?”

“A little past Ruby killing Peter and just shy of Mr. Gold.”

Emma’s eyes went wide.  “…Wow.”

“Yeah.”  The boy got off the bed and walked over to his desk, picking up the book that seemed to control the people of this town’s destinies and opening it.  Walking back over, he flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for, holding it out for her.  “Go on.  You read it.”

Considering that Henry usually was only too happy to tell her the stories even though so many of them were sad, it had to be bad.  She asked him, “Not gonna give me the Cliff’s Notes?”

Henry shook his head.  “No, I really don’t like this story.  I mean, I like Archie a lot, he’s kind of my best friend, but…none of it’s fair.  He didn’t deserve any of it.  He didn’t get to pick like a lot of the others did and the only time he got to, he picked the worst thing because he didn’t know any other way.”

Seeing how much thinking about it upset him, Emma offered him a smile, reaching out to touch his hair.  “Then if you don’t mind, I’m gonna borrow this for a bit.  About time I did a little of my own reading.  Besides…”  She grinned.  “…maybe I’ll see something in here that you and Regina missed to help with Operation: Mongoose.”

The boy’s million-watt smile returned to his face, eyes glittering.  “You really think you might find something?”

“Worth a shot, right?  I’ve barely looked at this book while you and Regina have been over it a million times.  My eyes are fresh.”

“That’d be so awesome.  Thanks.”

“No problem, kid.”  She jerked her thumb towards the door.  “I’m gonna go make sure your grandma didn’t fall asleep in a chair while rocking your uncle again.”

That made Henry laugh.  “It’s gonna be so hard to explain to him all this when he’s older.”

“Just be grateful that neither of us gets that fun chore.”

“We should make popcorn when Grandma and Grandpa try and explain it.”

“I like the way you think.”

* * *

After shooing Mary Margaret off to bed with the promise that she’ll wake the woman up the moment her brother started fussing and mentally planning to do nothing of the sort, Emma stretched out on the couch, clipped a book light to the hard cover, and started to read.

Within the first two pages, the Savior of Storybrooke decided that Henry was right: This story was the  _worst._

It had always secretly fascinated her about how the book never seemed to run out of pages, that every story could fit between the covers without the book weighing over a hundred pounds.  Tonight, however, she hated it because each new turn of the page made an already ugly picture that much worse.  Just when she thought she’d reached a point where finally,  _finally_ young Jiminy was free, she’d turn the page and find that his parents had manipulated him  _again_ into staying with them until he didn’t even  _try_ anymore.

She didn’t need the descriptions of her friend’s misery to understand how he’d felt.  One glance at one of the odd stained glass-like pictures of a young Jiminy curled up somewhere, listening to other people and imagining he was part of them, and she knew exactly what he’d been feeling.  After all, how many times had she done the same?  How many times had she been curled up in some corner of one foster home or another, wishing for and imagining that perfect life with a family who loved her?  The fact that these were Archie’s own  _parents_ made it that much worse since they were the people who should’ve cared for him the most.  Emma’s foster parents had an excuse in that she wasn’t with them long enough to get properly attached.  The two thieves had been Archie’s own kin.

Her hands clenched on the cover as her teeth ground together.  She knew the Blue Fairy came to those who wished really hard with their whole hearts for something.  Yet when Jiminy had needed her  _most,_ when he’d still had a  _chance,_ the witch never graced him with a smile and a wish for freedom fulfilled.  The utter  _betrayal_ by the woman Emma knew best as Mother Superior made the back of her mouth taste sour from bile creeping up her throat.

She read of him growing up to become quite an accomplished thief and pickpocket.  So good, in fact, that his parents quite regularly traded his skills to Rumplestiltskin himself for gold thread.

_“I just want you to know that you did good.  I mean, I’ve never seen anybody pull off a pickpocket job that smoothly.  I know what to look for, and even_ I _almost missed it.”_

God, she’d  _complimented_ him for the very skill he’d never wanted to learn.  She hadn’t known, but that momentary look of betrayal when he’d thought she had made her feel that much sicker.  He’d just wanted to be a good boy, and instead he’d been psychologically and emotionally abused and used like a tool to become…

Her blood went cold as she read of the poison intended for his parents that had turned young Geppetto’s parents into marionettes.  Then it boiled as at last the Blue Fairy  _finally_ deigned to appear before the broken man who’d been backed into a corner and killed two innocents,  _finally_ decided to grant his wish for freedom, and bound him to cricket form so he could take care of the boy he’d orphaned.

Emma saw red, redder than Ruby’s favorite shade.  She’d lived for so long without a family that she clung to it all the harder now that she had one.  Archie might not share blood with her and Henry, but he was family all the same.  To know what his own blood family had done while someone who could’ve helped him had done  _nothing_ made her want to track down first the man’s parents and then Blue and then beat the ever-loving hell out of all three of them since she knew Archie would never do it himself no matter how much he might’ve secretly wanted to.

And then her heart shattered as she realized that in breaking the first curse, she’d broken the blessing it had granted him: the power to  _forget._

He and Marco had been best friends without any of that past history between them.  She’d noticed things had a tendency to get awkward between the two from time-to-time nowadays, as if there was something there that had driven a wedge between them now that their memories had been restored.

True, he’d been under Regina’s thumb, but he’d had two friends he could confide in: one a dog and the other a man.  He’d had a good job that he actually had a lot of skill with.  He wasn’t forced into a loveless relationship or any of the other problems that had plagued the cursed citizens of Storybrooke.

Now he couldn’t talk as freely with Marco, leaving only Pongo who could offer nothing in the way of conversation.  He didn’t even have the freedom of the cricket form to hide away from the face of the man who’d killed his best friend’s parents.  No wonder he’d been one of the first to head to the town line: Regina’s curse had only reached him  _after it was broken._  In a bizarre twist, it had  _granted_ him a happily ever after of sorts while it was in effect.

Her rage subsided.  Oh, she was still angry.   If she ran into Archie’s scumbag parents or Blue, she was going to punch them in the teeth for putting her friend through hell, but she had a higher priority now.

She closed the book and headed to bed as the clock chimed two.  Once her shift was over with for the day, she’d track down Archie.  It was about time somebody listened to  _his_ problems for a change.

* * *

“Hey, Marco, do you know where Archie is?  Nobody’s seen him all day, and he cancelled all his appointments.  He’s not at his office, and he’s not answering his door.”

Marco looked up from the intricately-carved cuckoo clock he’d been working on.  It took everything Emma had to stay on task and not marvel at it.  “That depends.  Is he in trouble?”

It was said as a joke but there was an undertone of worry in his response.

She waved off Marco’s concerns.  “I’m not going to arrest him.  I just…I mean…Something’s bugging him, and I think I know what.  I just want to make sure he’s gonna be okay.”

The old man’s lips twisted upward.  “There’s no set place he’ll go, but the best way to find him is to listen for the crickets.  You’ll find him where you can hear them the loudest.”

“Thanks.”  She then paused, looking back at the old woodcarver.  “Listen.  I, uh, I wanted to say that I know.  About what happened before Pinocchio.  I read about it in Henry’s book.  I figured you’d want to know since, well, it’s your story, too.”

Marco gave her a gentle smile before reaching out to pat her on the arm.  “Thank you for letting me know.”

She smiled back.

The old man looked up at the darkening sky just outside his open workshop.  “I forgave Jiminy years ago for what he did.  I’ve told him so many, many times.  However, I used his guilt against him a lot when he first lighted on my shoulder as a cricket.  There is no doubt in my mind that the voice he hears in his mind to keep trying to atone for past and already-forgiven sins is my voice.  If I could go back in time and do one thing, I’d give my young self a whipping he’d never forget for doing that.”

Emma gave a small chuckle.

“Now go,” Marco said, shooing her away with one hand. “I have work to finish.  Bring that cricket home.”

“Will do.”

* * *

Going to where the crickets were the loudest wasn’t the easiest thing to do.  Of course, she’d known that from the start since crickets didn’t like staying in one place.  They hopped about and flew where they liked with nothing to hold them back.  Little wonder Jiminy had wanted to be one so bad.

Following her ears, she finally came to the collapsed mining tunnel that Archie and Henry had been trapped in such a long time ago.  Sitting on the edge of the crater with his back to the town was the man she was looking for.

She put her hands in her pockets, the dirt and stone crunching with each step.  “Had me worried, Archie.”

One eye slid in her direction to look at her.  “Sorry, Emma, but there wasn’t any reason to.  I just needed some time to straighten things out in my head.  I knew I wouldn’t be of any use to anyone, least of all my patients, until I resolved that.”

“I can get that,” she said.  She sat down beside him. “Just because you listen to everybody else’s problems doesn’t mean you can’t have your own.”

His lips twitched at that.  “Not everyone seems to get that.”

“So talk, Archie Hopper,” she said with as much mock professionalism as she could. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

For the first time Archie turned his head to look at her, his face skeptical.  “You’re really going to do this.”

“We will never get to the bottom of your problems if you don’t discuss them,” she continued, miming having a clipboard and pencil in her hands, ready to “write” down anything he said.

That earned a snort of laughter at least, and that twitch of the lips spread that much more.

She grinned back before lowering her hands.  “Seriously though, I read Henry’s book last night.  I know what you did.  Not just to Geppetto either.  Not sure how far back Henry got since that book is weird, but…I just wanna say that I know what it’s like to grow up without a family and how it can mess you up.”

“I was with—”

She silenced him with a look.  “They may have been your parents, but they weren’t family, and we both know it.  Those two scumbags were perfect for each other.”

“True Love works in mysterious ways,” Archie grumbled.

She stared.  “No way.   _Those two?”_

Archie shrugged.  “Even terrible people can find True Love.  It’s just in my parents’ case, they each met someone as equally horrible as themselves and teamed up to be that much worse.”

“…That makes way too much sense.  Though that does explain why you don’t buy into that ‘product of True Love’ thing.”

“I’m a product of True Love, but I have bad blood that will always come out sooner or later.  Pretty sure that proves that not everybody born of True Love is destined to always do right.”

“Given the choices I made, we’re both shining examples of that.”

“You only did what you felt you had to do.”

“And you were stuck in a wagon with only those two jerks for company,” she countered. “I at least had one foster home where I  _almost_ felt like I was home.  You didn’t even get that.  And the one person who could’ve done something about it never came.”

“Who?”

“That witch who calls herself ‘the Blue Fairy’.”

“She came after—”

“I know she did, but how many times did you wish on her star with everything you had, and she never showed?”

Judging by the flinch, the answer was “a lot”.

“I wished on stars for someone to find me and take me home a lot when I was little, but those stars were just stars.  What’s her excuse?”

“Maybe she just doesn’t grant wishes to people who make bad choices,” Archie said.

“Bull.  She would’ve never come to you to turn you into a cricket if that was the case.”

“I should’ve tried harder to quit.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but given what they’d did to you, it’s easy to see why you gave up and just took it.  She could’ve done something before you reached that point, back when you were still fighting to get away but couldn’t do it since you were too small to make it on your own.”

The former cricket going quiet made her wonder if he’d ever silently raged against the Blue Fairy as well.

Deciding that maybe that was a subject that should be dropped, she reached up to rub at the back of her neck.  “Anyway, I also wanted to…well…I guess apologize for complimenting your pickpocketing skills.  I know now that you didn’t want to learn how to do that, and it looked like I’d slapped you because I didn’t before.”

“No apology is necessary.”  Archie tilted his head back to look up at the stars.  “Actually, it’s because of yesterday that I’ve been feeling mixed up.”

“Kinda figured that.”

“But not for the reasons you’d think,” he said.

“Try me.”

“I don’t feel guilty about what I did.”

Emma’s brows lifted.

“I keep waiting for my conscience to tell me that I did something wrong, but it’s silent.  I ignored it as best I could growing up, but it was always whispering at me that I was doing awful things just like my parents.  I should’ve heard it yesterday when I was basically casing Lang, figuring out the best approach to get close.  But there’s nothing.”  He lowered his head.  “I even felt a little proud when I got the notebook.  Does that mean that I’m becoming them?  That I got so good at ignoring my conscience back then that using what they taught me again means I can’t hear it anymore?”

“Did you ever stop and think that maybe your conscience isn’t saying anything because it  _agrees_ with what you did as the right thing to do?” Emma asked dryly.

Archie looked sideways at her.

“You’re looking at it all as just black and white, but it’s not always that simple.”  Seeing him unconvinced, she continued, “Look at it this way: Let’s say I shot and killed somebody.  Murder’s wrong, right?”

He nodded.

“But let’s say that I did that when that person was trying to seriously hurt Henry.  It’s still wrong because I still murdered someone.”

“No, you killed someone trying to hurt Henry.  You stopped them and saved a life which is good.”

“So why is pickpocketing from some creepazoid to stop him from hurting some innocent girl bad?”

Archie opened his mouth to answer, and she braced herself for him shooting her argument right out of the water.  However, he then furrowed his brow, eyes turning downward as his head twitched back and forth as though hunting for an answer in the dirt.  Emma wondered if that was something he’d always done or something he’d picked up as a cricket.

“…It isn’t,” he said after several moments of silence, some of the drawn lines of his face starting to relax. “I mean, it’s legally wrong, but morally…it’s not.  If you’d wanted to arrest me for it, I’d let you do it, but I saved someone so I don’t feel bad.  I’d even do it again if I had to.”

Emma face split open into a grin as a real smile returned to Archie’s face.

“Thanks, Emma.”

“No problem.  It looked like you were chasing your tail, and aren’t you the one who says to talk it out with someone when you’re stuck?”

“My own words used against me,” he said wryly.

“No good deed goes unpunished,” she quipped.  After a beat of silence, she said, “Do you mind if I call you in from time to time to consult on stuff?  I don’t mean pickpocketing every suspect, but in general using what your parents taught you to stick it to them and people like them.  My superpower lets me know when someone’s lying, but I can’t always tell what it is they’re doing that’s triggering it.  I was self-taught; you learned every trick of the trade from the masters.”

Archie hesitated.

“You don’t have to make up your mind right now,” she added. “Just think it over and get back to me whenever.  I’m not leaving Storybrooke any time soon.”

He nodded.

There was silence between them for several minutes as they listened to the crickets.

Then Emma couldn’t resist asking any longer:  “Do you miss being a cricket?”

“Sometimes more than others,” Archie admitted. “When that happens, my wings itch.”

Emma stared blankly before leaning over to try and get a look at his back.

Archie laughed.  “They’re not really there, but I can feel them sometimes.  Like a phantom limb kind of thing.”

“With this place, who knows?  You might get ’em back one day.”

“That’d be nice.  I miss flying.”

“Maybe you’ll sprout a pair while you’re still human instead of going full cricket,” she said with a grin. “You can try pulling some  _Superman_ stuff like giving your sweetheart an overhead view of Storybrooke.”

Archie flushed red at the idea before saying indignantly, “I’d probably drop them.”

“You can practice with me,” she offered playfully. “I’m light.  Besides, it’d be pretty cool.”

“Henry’s light, too,” he noted dryly. “If I suddenly sprouted wings, he’d probably start begging for a ride.”

“Yeah, but if you tried doing that before I knew you could handle it, I’d shoot you through the wings to make sure you  _and_ Henry stayed grounded.  Assuming Regina didn’t try frying you first.”

With that, the sound of laughter blended with the cricket song.

* * *

Three days later, after Lang had been put into some sort of magical prison kind of deal courtesy of Regina, Archie’s voice made her look up from the mess of bills on her desk:  “Okay.”

She blinked at him, glancing over at David seated at the desk just behind Archie, her father looking baffled.  She then looked back up at the former cricket himself. “You’re sure?”

He appeared uncomfortable, like he was going to be more than a little sick.  His thumb, fore, and middle fingers rubbed against one another nervously.  She hated to think that she’d made him feel obligated to agree somehow.  “I don’t want to have to do it constantly though.  Especially not the…”  He twitched his hand as if he were plucking something from the air.

“You’d just be a consultant when we get stuck and need a fresh set of eyes,” she assured him. “Won’t even need to deputize you or give you a badge.”

He visibly relaxed at that, as if her words had settled some fears he’d been holding in.  He smiled and nodded his head.  “Okay.”  This time it was less frantic and more self-assured.

“Okay,” she echoed with a wide grin.

He glanced up at the clock.  “I’d better get going.  I’ve got a session in thirty minutes I need to prepare for.  I just wanted to let you know.”

“I appreciate it,” she said.

Nodding to David, the former cricket hurried out.

The prince watched him go before looking back towards his daughter.  “Care to tell me what that was all about?”

“I asked him if he wouldn’t mind helping us out from time-to-time,” she said, bending back over the bills. “He’s got some tricks that we could use.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”  She then straightened up haughtily.  “Now get back to work on those files,  _deputy.”_

Knowing that she wasn’t going to say more than that and knowing not to press the subject in this case, he rolled his eyes.  “Sure thing,  _sheriff.”_


End file.
